confused ramblings of a single thirty-something
by sherllllllock
Summary: 'Sherlock,' Molly took a sip from the glass of champagne Mrs Turner must have placed in her hands at some point, 'what on earth are you doing here' 'Staying with my parents over New Year,' he said moodily. 'They refused to leave Mycroft and I home alone together. One of us had to come along, and I unfortunately pulled the short straw.' / BRIDGET JONES' DIARY AU


**Saturday 1****st**** January **

**5:30am**

There is a traditional rule that one should not phone someone before 8:30am and after 9:30pm. Molly Hooper's mother, however, is the exception to this rule.

'Hiya, Molly dear! I was just wondering what you were going to wear to the party tonight.'

'Mum!' She groaned. 'It's 5 o'clock in the bloody morning…'

'Oh, sorry darling, I didn't notice the time. Now,' her voice went down two octaves, 'you will be coming to my New Year's shindig, won't you dear? You know how lonesome I've been since Daddy's passing.'

_Shit! She pulled the lonely card. _'Ah. About that, actually, I…' She panicked completely, stumbling for words. What excuse could she come up with to get her out of this? '…Mum, I think I actually have to go to work today, my boss is a right pain in the arse, wouldn't let me take the day off.'

'Oh that's fine, darling, you can just pop 'round after work, the party doesn't start till eight. Oh, and I forgot to mention, some old friends Wanda and Timothy are coming, they used to live in the village when you were small, and they're also bringing their very handsome son-'

Oh no. Now that explained why her mother was so desperate for her to come. She wanted to set her up with another balding, middle-aged accountant, with grey hair coming out of his ears. 'Mum, I've told you a hundred times, I don't need you to set me up with anyone.'

'Don't be like that, darling,' her mother sighed, 'you know I won't be around forever. I want to see my grandchildren before I die! Of course you're going to come. And you're going to stay until Monday.'

Sometimes Molly Hooper really disliked her mother. This was definitely one of those moments.

'I guess I could ask Mike Stamford to cover for me,' she had to pull the phone away from her ear, the sound of her mother's yelps of joy nearly bursting one of her eardrums. 'I'll see you tonight.'

Molly ended the call, making sure to put the phone on silent, before falling back to sleep.

**8:30pm **

She couldn't believe she was once again spending the first evening of the New Year in her old bedroom in her parents' house. Don't take her the wrong way; she _loved _her old room and the memories that came with it, especially the ones of her father tucking her in at night before reading her a story as she drifted off to sleep. However, whilst unpacking her clothes from the suitcase and placing them into the old, rickety wardrobe, she had to admit it was incredibly humiliating to be doing this at her age. She was 35 years old, for Gods sake! She wondered if she could jump out the window and sneak back to her car. She gave up planning an escape route when she realised her mother would never let her hear the end of it and would have to spend even more time with her because of the overwhelming guilt she would probably end up feeling. Having sulked in her bedroom for a reasonable amount of time, she slowly made her way down towards the sitting room where all the guests were milling around, to find her mother's closest friend, Mrs Turner, pulling her by the shoulders and placing a large sloppy kiss against her cheek.

'Molly! It's absolutely wonderful seeing you again! Happy New Year, love!'

She hauled her into the middle of the room, clapped her hands together, before loudly asking, 'How's your love life?'

'Oh, um…'

'Still seeing that Jim fellow you were telling us all about?'

_Oh God. Of course she had to ask about Moriarty. _"Actually, no. He wasn't… we didn't work out in the end." She turned absolutely red in the face. She didn't understand why everyone always felt the need to ask about her love life. She's single. No one wants to shag her. We get it. Stop rubbing it in.

'Oh Molly dear, what on earth are we going to do with you, huh?' said Mrs Turner. 'You career girls can't put it off forever,' she sing-songed, 'Anyhoo, let me introduce you to Wanda and Timothy's son.' Being set up with a man is humiliating enough as it is, but being literally dragged into it by Mrs Turner was on a whole other level of embarrassing.

Wanda and Timothy's son, she still didn't know his name, was standing with his back towards her, examining her mother's extensive bookshelves. He was tall, wearing what appeared to be a very expensive tailored suit, oh – and had, what appeared to be, a very nice bum. For a moment she had thought her mother had actually done something right for once, that she had actually set her up with someone who looked decent, but then she scanned her eyes up to his head – he had very lovely black, curly inky – _oh, fuck. _She wasn't wearing her contact lenses, but she could recognise that curly hair from a mile away.

'Sherlock!' said Mrs Turner. _Fuck! Fuck! Fuckity-Fuck! There was no way in hell this was actually happening_. Molly wished she had jumped out of her bedroom window when she had the sodding chance. 'I've got someone lovely here I want you to meet.'

Sherlock turned around to face them, but he definitely was not as shocked as she seemed to be.

'_Kill me now_,' she whispered, placing her head in her hands before plastering a fake smile onto her face.

'What was that, dear? Oh never mind,' said Mrs Turner. 'Sherlock, this is Molly Hooper, Edith and Frank's daughter. Molly is a… what is it you do again, love?'

'She's a Pathologist.' Yep, that baritone voice could belong to no other man than _him_. She definitely was not imagining this.

Mrs Turner's eyes flicked from Sherlock to Molly and back to Sherlock again. 'You two know each other already?' A giggle escaped her lips, as she went all pink and fluttery, before placing a hand to her chest. 'Well, I'll leave you young folk together then, so you can catch up.'

'Thank you,' said Sherlock with an awkward and completely unsuccessful attempt at what he thought was a smile, at which Mrs Turner burst into giggles before turning away to find Molly's mother, who had been watching the whole encounter like a hawk searching for prey.

'I. Um. How's work?' he said.

Oh, for God's sake. He was trying to make conversation.

'_Sherlock,_' Molly took a sip from the glass of champagne Mrs Turner must have placed in her hands at some point, 'what on earth are you doing here?'

'Staying with my parents over New Year,' he said moodily. 'They refused to leave Mycroft and I home alone together. One of us had to come along, and I unfortunately pulled the short straw.'

Molly couldn't help but snigger at that. She could imagine Mr and Mrs Holmes coming home to the two brothers standing outside, watching as the firemen tried to put out the flames which had consumed the entire building.

'I didn't know you grew up in this village, too.'

'Yes, well,' he murmured. 'Didn't spend much time here. Mother and Father packed me off to Boarding School at a young age. Although, I do remember you running around our lawn in your pants at one of my birthday parties.'

Of course he had to mention that whilst she was taking a large gulp of her drink, she almost choked to death! '_Excuse me?!' _

'You were five,' he chuckled. 'And I was seven.'

'Seems a bit pervy, if you ask me.' She giggled.

'Mmm, yes it does.' They were both silent for a while. Molly was unsure of what to say next, so she focused on the liquid swirling at the bottom of her champagne flute. 'You know, our mothers are attempting to set us up.'

'Which explains why they've been throwing us glances every five seconds before whispering in each other's ears,' she said with a smirk. 'Mum does this every bloody year. Half the guests here are probably wondering why I haven't completely repulsed you yet.'

'Repulsed me?'

'Usually, when I tell the guy about my job, they make up some kind of excuse and bolt off towards the buffet, where I am left standing with the entire room staring at me, thinking, 'I wonder what Molly's said this time to send that poor man off running.' She opened her mouth again to say more, but she noticed her mother waving at her like a madwoman. 'I think my Mum wants to talk to me. I'll uh, I'll see you around, Sherlock.' She started walking away, when suddenly she stopped and turned back towards the man, a smile gracing her lips. 'Oh, and Happy New Year.'

'What are you doing over here,' her mother screeched. 'Why did you leave Sherlock?' Her mother was absolutely crazed with irritation.

'_Mum?_' Molly's face twisted in confusion. 'You waved me over here. I thought you wanted to talk to me.'

'No darling, I just wanted to know how things were going with you two.' Her mother sighed. 'I only wanted a thumbs up or down – Oh look, now Sherlock's talking to his parents.' She turned towards the table behind them and picked up a tray of gherkins and olives. 'Why don't you go and offer them these snacks?'

It honestly could not have gotten worse than this. Her mother was literally throwing her into the path of Sherlock. She must have created some kind of erratic plan with Mrs Turner because the second Molly got within four feet of him with the gherkins, Mrs Turner threw herself across the room and said, 'Sherlock dear, why don't you drive back to London with Molly, instead of taking the train?'

'What?' I said.

Her mother must have joined the group, because she chimed in with a typical: 'Don't say what, Molly, say pardon!'

He blinked at her.

'Thank you, that's very kind.' He said. 'I would very much enjoy travelling back to London with you.'

**A/N** hey guys, i hope you enjoyed it! but um, just asking a favour, please leave a review about what you thought and more importantly, if you want me to continue, bc i always do this douchebag thing where i write the first chapter and then never touch the fic again. so yeah, leave a review! cool. thanks for reading :-)


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